Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  Aisha felt herself drawn deeper and deeper into the visions, until she began to lose sensation in her legs. Her body seemed to float free, weightless.

  Sorrow surged within her as she knelt beside the deathbed of a woman. Love mingled with the grief, and she held her mother’s hand as she breathed her last. The woman’s final words echoed in her mind. “Peace and safety in the Long Keeper’s arms.” Aisha was gripped by an overwhelming urge to collapse, to break down weeping. She felt her heart shattered into a million pieces as she mourned her mother.

  No, not me. The thought sounded faint, distant, as if it came from somewhere else outside her mind. Aterallis.

  With effort, she pushed back against the visions. She forced herself to concentrate on the feeling of solid flesh. The stones beneath her feet. The breeze on her face. The thump, thump of her heart. The sound of people around her.

  She came out of it with a gasp, her legs trembling. The memories and feelings hadn’t been hers, but they’d been so real she had nearly lost herself in them.

  Peace be unto you, child of spirits. Aterallis gave a little bow and, with a smile, dissipated in front of her. The blue-white light of his spirit faded, leaving only the rosy glow of dawn around her.

  Aisha struggled against the pull of the ethereal, fighting to regain her grasp on her body. A shudder ran down her spine. She struggled to collect her thoughts—she had nearly lost herself once more, and only barely escaped the Unshackling.

  I have to be more careful, else I’ll lose myself like my father and Imbuka.

  A presence to her right snapped her from her thoughts. She turned to find Invictus Tannard standing beside her, his perpetual scowl twisting his lips. “These supplies you spoke of, they’re real?” he demanded, his voice cold and hard.

  Aisha nodded. “As real as you and I.” She gave him directions on how to locate the militants’ hideout and the stockpiled food. “You may find the last of Hallar’s Warriors as well.”

  “Good riddance to them!” Tannard snorted. For a moment, his expression softened a fraction. “Whoever you are, well done.”

  With that, he turned on his heel and strode away, barking commands to the nearest Keeper’s Blade. In the space of less than a minute, a full two dozen Indomitables set off to the west, heading toward the militants’ hideouts. Tannard himself led the company, with three of his Blades in tow.

  Aisha turned back toward the pavilion, where the Pharus sat in negotiation with the seven delegates from the lower castes. Though the Earaqi farmers hadn’t lost their scowls, they hadn’t yet stormed out of the pavilion. Given the fact that they’d been a heartbeat from slaughtering Indomitables a couple of hours earlier, Aisha counted that as progress.

  Long minutes passed as Aisha watched the negotiation. Though Aterallis’ spirit had gone, released from this world upon the completion of his mission, his emotions remained. Aisha felt compelled to remain nearby, to ensure that his final request would be carried out. She had to be certain he would have the peace he sought.

  Slowly, the Earaqi’s scowls softened, their frowns fading as the negotiations progressed. Aisha couldn’t hear everything, but the general tone of the proceedings sounded positive. The Pharus’ strong voice rang with earnest sincerity. He, too, wanted an end to the hostility. Aisha got the sense—not only from Aterallis’ spirit, but from her few interactions with the man—that he genuinely cared for his people. That had filled her with the confidence to speak to the rioters, to offer them a chance to try for peaceful resolution.

  Heat flared within her, bright and hot like a river of molten lead that sizzled through her veins. Warning shouts echoed in her mind with such force that they set her skull shattering. Her hand flashed to her pendant and the voices sharpened, until she could hear their cries.

  Danger! Their shrieks rang in her thoughts. Danger!

  Aisha was instantly on full alert, her right hand dropping to her assegai. She scanned Death Row for any sign of peril, yet she saw nothing.

  But the spirits hadn’t been wrong yet. They had warned her of the attack on Suroth’s mansion, then again in Briana’s house on the Artisan’s Tier. Their cries had saved her life time and again.

  Suddenly, black-armored figures appeared west on the Path of Gold. Indomitables raced toward Death Row. Even from this distance, Aisha could see the fear and panic in their wide eyes, pale faces, and frantically pumping limbs.

  “Protect the Pharus!” came the shout from the foremost of the soldiers.

  The Indomitables standing guard around the pavilion scrambled to form a defensive line between the tent and Death Row, professional and alert.

  “Where’s the enemy?” one called back.

  “Everywhere!” The desperate cry echoed along the broad avenue.

  Behind the last of the soldiers, Aisha caught sight of three figures locked in battle. Invictus Tannard and two of his Keeper’s Blades fought a desperate retreat, their huge swords swinging in a blur of steel. No sign of the fourth Blade.

  Even as Aisha raced up Death Row toward the battle line, one of the Blades fell beneath the surging tide of enemies. He gave a shrill cry of pain, silenced a moment later as the wave of death rolled over him.

  Aisha squinted down the avenue, trying to see what new foe they faced. The light of the rising sun shone on a scene of utter horror.

  The creatures that staggered up the Path of Gold might have been human, but all semblance of humanity had drained from their slack features, deathly pale faces, solid white eyes, and slavering teeth. A horrible gurgling, rasping sound echoed in the morning air as hundreds, then thousands of the monstrosities appeared, flooding from every alleyway and side street. They shambled, lurched, and stumbled along, their movements slow, yet they came on in a solid wall, inexorable in their approach.

  Right toward the pavilion where the Pharus and the delegates of the lower castes attempted to broker peace.

  ----

  Kodyn, Aisha, Evren, Hailen, Issa, and Briana’s epic journey continues in:

  Ascension of Death

  (Book 5)

  Chapter One

  Death came for Issa.

  The Necroseti guard drove his long, straight dagger at her chest. Issa twisted out of the path of the striking dagger, barely avoiding its biting edge. Her chains clanked and pulled tight, yanking her back toward the man attempting to murder her. His next attack scraped a long, shallow gash along her chest, tearing a hole in her thin under-tunic.

  Fire flared down Issa’s shoulder blade, right breast, and sternum, and a pained growl escaped her lips. She leapt back to the full length of her chain, opening a gap between them. The man rushed her, dagger held low, his thrusts quick and furious.

  Issa’s eyes flew wide as she recognized the attack pattern. Though her enemy wore the silver breastplate of a Necroseti guard, he fought with the savagery of a Mahjuri trained in the Institute of the Seven Faces. Dirty, brutal, and vicious, a flurry of quick swipes of the dagger aimed at her throat, belly, arms, and chest.

  The chains that held Issa bound saved her life. Steel clanged on steel as the dagger struck her manacles, turning aside a savage swipe intended to open her wrists. Before the man could follow up, Issa brought her heavy boot up and snapped it into his stomach. Her kick, driven by muscles strengthened over hours spent running the Blades’ Two Hundred, sent him stumbling backward.

  In the seconds it took the man to recover, Issa dove for the stone she’d spent the last hours sharpening. A former prisoner had worked the stone against the rough wall until it had a half-edge, and she’d continued the labor, a desperate attempt to occupy her mind and keep up her willpower as she sought to escape imprisonment. Her fingers closed around the stone’s smooth surface and she whipped around to face her enemy.

  The man sneered. “That won’t save you.” He tightened his grip on his dagger and stalked toward her. “Surrender, or I’ll make your death truly agonizing.”

  “A Keeper’s Blade never yields!” Issa growled.

&
nbsp; “A foolish choice,” snarled the man. “Tethum will have to send your head to the Lady of Blades.”

  Issa’s jaw clenched. She had no intention of fighting a defensive battle. She retreated to the full length of her chain, her eyes fixed on him. Watching his feet, waiting for him to come within reach.

  Just one more step, you bastard!

  He came toward her, and she attacked.

  Her shackled hands snapped up, and her fingers released their grip on the stone. The rock hurtled toward him, right at his face. He whipped his head to the side and the stone sailed past, clattering against the stone wall behind him. A sneer twisted his lips as he turned back to face Issa. His disdain turned to shocked surprise as Issa drove clenched fists into his throat.

  The man fell back, gasping, his breath coming in horrible wheezing gasps. Even as he staggered, Issa brought her foot around in a kick snapped right at his head. Her heavy boot crashed into his face and slammed him against the wall. His head cracked off stone with bone-crushing force. He dropped, blood gushing from his shattered nose, split lips. More crimson stained the golden sandstone behind him as he slid down the wall and fell in a boneless heap at her feet.

  Issa leapt atop the man as he collapsed, her knee driving into his chest. The thump of his body hitting the floor was drowned out by the clank of her shackles as she wrapped the chain around his neck. One mighty yank, and the man’s neck snapped like a dried twig.

  Silence filled the lamplit cell, broken only by the blood rushing in Issa’s ears. Her heart hammered a staccato beat against her ribs and her breath came quick, frantic.

  Keeper’s teeth! Issa stared down at the body beneath her, mind racing. The man’s words echoed in her thoughts. “Tethum wanted you alive, but he’ll settle for your death!”

  Who in the fiery hell is Tethum, and why does he want me dead? Or alive? She knew no one by that name, but she’d made a few enemies during her short tenure as a Keeper’s Blade. Perhaps he was one of the Indomitables she’d arrested on the Slave’s Tier, or a Necroseti seeking vengeance for the death of High Divinity Tinush—a death that had wrongfully been laid at her feet.

  Issa wouldn’t put it past Madani, Natoris, or any of the surviving members of the Keeper’s Council to order her murder. Yet, if they’d wanted her dead, they simply would have executed her in the Crucible the moment she entered. Madani had insisted on a grand execution after sundown, refused to inter her body in the Keeper’s Crypts. By doing so, he’d ensured she would never join the ranks of the fallen Blades defending the Tomb of Hallar. A final indignity to heap on her after he executed her like a coward.

  More than that, Madani would never send Issa’s head to Lady Callista. It didn’t matter that he had no idea Issa was the Lady of Blades’ secret daughter; the Necroseti knew better than to pick a direct fight with the Proxenos of the Keeper’s Blades, commander of the Indomitables, the most powerful military ruler in Shalandra.

  She couldn’t discount the thought that Tethum was a Necroseti working independent of Madani’s orders, taking action against her of his own account. Yet one explanation seemed most likely: someone outside the Keeper’s Temple wanted her dead.

  But if he’s not a Keeper’s Priest, how the hell did he get one of the Necroseti guards to do his dirty work?

  The Necroseti paid their guards more per day than most Earaqi made in a month, and many of the guards were staunch believers and devoted servants of the Keeper’s Priests. To suborn one of them, this mysterious Tethum would either have to offer them a Pharus’ ransom in gold or find some other incentive to convince them. Given everything that had happened in recent weeks—the attacks by the Gatherers, Hallar’s Warriors inciting riots in the city, the Ybrazhe Syndicate stirring up chaos—Issa couldn’t be certain which was more likely.

  Her hands moved even as her mind worked, fumbling on the dead guard’s belt for the keys. A curse escaped her lips. Where the twisted hell is it?

  A glint of steel caught her eye. The key had fallen beside the door, knocked free of the man’s belt in the furious scuffle.

  As she feared, the length of her chain extended barely three feet from the ring anchored into the wall. Gritting her teeth, she leaned against the chain and stretched out her legs as far as she could reach. Her boots scuffed the dirty ground a full two feet short of the key.

  Damn it! Dread sank like a stone in her gut. Councilor Madani intended to execute her at sundown, but she had no idea how long she’d spent trapped in the underground cell. If the guards came to check on her, the discovery of their dead comrade would infinitely worsen her already-bad situation. The guards wouldn’t care that he’d tried to stick a dagger in her; they likely wouldn’t give her a chance to explain, but would instead take out their anger on her in the most violent ways their Necroseti masters permitted.

  The dagger!

  Hope rose in Issa’s chest. She spun and scanned the cell for her attacker’s weapon. It lay a foot from his limp hand, fallen from numb fingers as he collapsed senseless.

  Yes!

  Issa threw herself toward the blade and scooped it up. Her blood still stained the razor-sharp edge, the crimson glistening wet in the lamplight. The blade was long and narrow, more a thick stiletto than a multi-purpose belt knife. A tool intended exclusively for murder.

  And it would set her free.

  Issa fumbled the dagger around to a reverse grip and slid the sharp point into the keyhole of the locking bar holding the shackle locked around her right wrist. She prodded the hole with the knife’s tip, trying desperately to break the hinge or shatter the rivet holding the bar in place. Long seconds passed in a furious battle against the steel chains. The awkward position sent a sharp, aching pain racing through her wrists, and still the shackles refused to open.

  Sweat streamed down Issa’s face, and her frustration mounted with every passing second. Moisture soaked into her palms until the dagger’s leather-wrapped hilt slipped from her grasp.

  Keeper take this! An irritated growl escaped her lips, but she stooped, retrieved the blade, and set to work again. Where are Evren and Kodyn when you need a thief’s help? Either one of them would already be free of the manacles. Yet she was imprisoned in the Hall of the Beyond. Alone. Help wouldn’t be coming.

  The minutes ticked by, and still Issa wrestled with the chains. The locking bar proved infuriatingly resistant to her attempts to open it. As the dagger clattered from her grip for the fifth time, Issa finally had no choice but to accept the truth. There’s no way I’m breaking the lock on these. They were too well-built, and she knew nothing about opening locks.

  She had to find another way out.

  Her eyes once more darted to the key, lying on the ground just out of her reach. She had to find some way to get it.

  But how? She had nothing but the dagger, a stone, and the body of the dead guard. None of those things would make her taller or extend her reach.

  Or will they?

  She whipped around to stare at the guard…at his belt.

  Issa moved without hesitation. Crouching over the dead guard, she worked at the buckle until it opened, then ripped the belt free of the man’s pants with a single yank. She turned toward the key, studying the distance.

  No way I’ll get the key using my hands, but maybe my feet.

  Sitting quickly, Issa wrapped one end of the belt around her boot and cinched it tight. She gave an experimental flick of her foot, and the movement sent the buckle end snaking out.

  This just might work!

  Issa scooted forward until she reached the full length of her chain, arms extended over her head. She had to crane her head painfully to see the key, and a twinge ran down her neck. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to ignore the ache and focus on reaching the key. If she didn’t, if the Necroseti guards came for her before she escaped, she would die.

  Her first attempt sent the belt buckle flicking three feet too far to the left. Growling, Issa bent her knee and brought her leg close to her body, casting out w
ith the belt once more. This time, the buckle snapped out to the right, just half a foot away from the key.

  Come on, come on! Sweat pricked on her forehead and ran down her neck. She hissed as the salt slithered across the cut on her chest. Yet that pain reminded her that she still lived. Against all odds, facing an armed enemy with nothing more than bare, shackled hands, she had somehow survived.

  A face flashed through her mind: cold, cruel, with dark eyes empty of feeling and warmth, and features as hard as Alshuruq’s stony peak. Invictus Tannard had set her to fight Hykos empty-handed, doubtless intending it as one of the cruel, harsh lessons he loved.

  Yet that training, and all of the torments inflicted upon her, had given her the strength to survive this and every other mad battle she’d fought over the last few days. Though she hated Tannard’s callous ruthlessness, a part of her knew the truth: she had only survived this long because of him. Not only to spite him by outliving his persecution, but because they had hardened her.

  I’ll be damned if I ever tell him that. Tannard was a bastard to the core, and she owed him no gratitude for her determination to live.

  The muscles in her neck began to seize, her joints locking up. Issa bit down on the pain, her eyes never leaving the key.

  I can do this!

  She flicked out her leg, and the belt snaked toward the key. Hope surged within her as steel clinked on steel. The buckle landed just beyond the bow of the key. Carefully, Issa drew her leg back, one inch at a time. She scarcely dared to breathe as the belt buckle slid toward the key.

  The buckle caught. Metal rasped on dirty stone as Issa dragged the belt closer to her body. Slowly, painstakingly, until she could finally extend her leg and snag the key with the toe of her boot. Pulling it within reach, she snatched up the key and set about fumbling at her manacles.